


Middle Ground

by Asa



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Crack, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Running Away, Slow Build, The Author Regrets Nothing, or...attempt at slow build, short chapters but long story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asa/pseuds/Asa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So far? Demon Prince Ryoma, on his way to Earth, has ended up stuck in Heaven with a broken portal-between-dimensions and the haughty archangel Atobe as his caretaker. He's about to find out that angels aren't so different from demons after all, and his mission to get to the "middle ground" Earth might not be the be-all, end-all solution to his problems he thought it would be. </p><p>So basically a story about Ryoma's vacation in Heaven. Let's all try to get out unscathed, shall we?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which they meet (and the newest fad is everything Hollywood can cook up).

He spotted a flock of angels, tittering nervously before a figure burst through the crowd. His dark wings were a dramatic contrast to the backdrop of white winged angels.

It was a demon.

Atobe landed with his hand on his sword. “And what is a demon doing in Heaven unannounced, I wonder,” Atobe drawled as he pulled out his sword in front of him. The whisper-soft _shiiiiik_ of the sword silenced the lot as easily as a shout. Security and desk angels alike pulled back, revealing the demon boy in his entirety.

He said boy because the demon was obviously still a child, evident from his short stature and thin, underdeveloped limbs. Atobe stared into large golden brown eyes, which widened at the sight of him and narrowed on his sword.

“Well? Answer me, demon child.” The wary look on the demon’s face quickly shifted to a glare. Oh ho, so he didn’t like being called a child, Atobe noted.

Then the demon blanked his expression like he hadn’t been angered at all, which Atobe also noted for being _almost_ as good as his own poker face (a novel term he had picked up from one of the human films for a mask to hide one’s emotions).

“I was just passing through,” the demon said, sticking his hands into his pants pockets and assuming a nonthreatening slouch, “I’m on my way to Earth.”

The audience of angels burst into astonished twitters and Atobe barked, “Silence!” They quickly shut up at his tone, which said _my glorious self is on the verge of a migraine so don’t make me smite you._

Turning back to the demon child, Atobe said with disbelief, “You were just passing through the _imperial portal-between-dimensions_? The only one allowed through that portal is Demonking Echizen or his representatives! And you are obviously neither.” With the last, Atobe cast a derisive eye over the demon’s clothing.

The demon looked down at himself and back up with an indignant look saying, _what’s wrong with my clothes?_

 _Everything_ , Atobe said with a haughty look and a Hair Flip™.

Growling, the demon pulled a paper from his pocket, marched up to Atobe (neatly avoiding the sword) and slapped the paper on Atobe’s chest. Atobe gave a surprised huff at the impact against his chest, but he caught the paper before it slid to the floor.

“There, your _royal highness_ ,” the demon drawled, “As you can see, I’m not one of the king’s representatives, but I do have a permission slip signed by him to visit Earth.”

_Permission slip??_

Atobe scanned the contents of the paper, which consisted of only two sentences in sloppy barely legible handwriting:

_I, King Echizen of the Realm of Hell, give permission for Ryoma Horio to go to Earth. This goes beyond any other authority, except maybe that of all the Council Kings of Heaven combined._

It was signed with an illegible clump of loops and squiggles, where only the _N_ at the front and somewhere a _z_ (which looked more like a 3) could be distinguished. Atobe’s eye twitched. Was this supposed to be the signature?

“Oh, the king’s doing this new thing where he’s copying the way humans write their signatures in a way that can’t be read. It’s supposed to make them harder to copy or something,” Ryoma (what kind of ridiculous family name was that) said helpfully.

Atobe sighed, and wished for the umpteenth time that his father was not away for Official Angel Council Business this week.

“Oshitari.”

“Yes,” said the angel himself as he slipped out of his pocket of reality and gave everyone except for Atobe a mini heart attack. As a magic user he tended to do that often. Atobe had had years to get over Yuushi popping out of the air and the only difference now was that he did it more silently than he used to. The rebellious lightning bolt _kazaaam_ phase he went through when they were in secondary was so much more stroke-inducing, these plebeians had no idea.  

The demon actually caught himself stepping back and simultaneously blushed and glared at the newly arrived angel. Atobe ignored the brief thought of _how…cute_ as he turned to Oshitari and passed him the note.

“Verify this. Ore-sama wants to know how harshly we should deal with our intruder,” Atobe said, noting how said demon bristled at his words.

“Done. What will you do with our demonguest in the meantime?” Oshitari asked, glasses flashing.

Atobe looked at the demon critically, making the boy bristle again, like a cat.

“Obviously, I’ll take him to the dungeons.” The demon’s eyes went wide at his words.

“You can’t do that! Throw me in the dungeons like a common criminal and you’ll see where the diplomatic relations between Heaven and Hell end up,” the demon threatened.

“We have to take safety precautions with every demonguest we receive,” Atobe said, motioning for the security angels to take the demon away as he sheathed his sword. The demon attempted to fight them off, black wings flapping furiously, but the angels outnumbered him. Hands held his thin arms down like shackles and one angel even caught the demon’s wings to stop them from slapping at their faces.

“You don’t do this with the other demonguests!”

“The other demonguests were either Demonking Echizen or his representatives,” Atobe repeated coolly. He made a shooing motion for the guards to take him away, and the last thing he saw of the demon was his glaring golden gaze as he was dragged off by his bulkier handlers. Among them, the demon looked very small and childlike.

Atobe registered and ignored the small pang of guilt he felt at the observation.

“Kind of cold, don’t you think?”

Atobe narrowed his eyes at Oshitari, who should have left on his task already, which he said with not a little frost edging his tone.

“As the young lord orders,” Oshitari said with a bow. Then he stepped sideways and slipped back out of sight.

Atobe then turned back to the remaining angels and finally addressed the problem that he had noted from his arrival but refused to acknowledge for the amount of stress that it would inflict on his delicate psyche.

“Now, you lot. Explain _that_ ,” Atobe said, referring to the smoking mess of the portal-between-dimensions behind them.

The remaining angels simultaneously gulped.

 

 

 

 

 

How dare he, that damn—damn monkey! King of monkeys—the _Monkey King_.

Ryoma’s homicidal swearing filled the tiny cell, and out the corner of his eye he saw his angelguards start to back away. He rolled his eyes.

How pathetic. If they were in Hell, they would be eaten alive by his kind. Angels were all so posh and prissy, it wasn’t a surprise that their leader was Monkey King.

He clenched his fists at the thought of that stuck-up angel who had looked at him like he was trash as he was being dragged away. Ryoma had realized then that angels truly did hate demons. He saw the way that the angels had looked at him when he fell through the portal, and the way they all immediately jumped at him. The way every eye on him since he arrived was wary and ringed with suspicion or fear, like he was some kind of rabid animal.  

Of course there was that big showdown between their two sides a long time ago, which solidified Hell’s creation from a ragtag band of Fallen angels to a kingdom of demons. Since then though, after his father pushed out the chaos and made a big enough space (a proper dimension) for all his people, after this new world was walled off from the old, after he reopened a tiny portal between their worlds and restarted relations once Hell was powerful enough to sustain Heaven’s influence, things had been pretty good. Demons and angels were like distant relatives who hadn’t seen each other in a while, but were still joined by blood. His father always talked about how well the Meetings were going and how hospitable all the angels were.

Ryoma had yet to see any of this hospitality though. If anything, they had been the _opposite_ of hospitable. 

Ryoma gave the straw bed behind him a sullen glance, but shuffled over and lay down on it anyways. It was uncomfortable but better than the stone floor, he determined, and wriggled around (unsuccessfully) for a more comfortable position.

It really wasn’t so bad, he thought. There was that time he was stuck in a closet for an entire day because he’d been hiding from his father after he accidentally burned up half the throne room when he was experimenting with matches he had swiped from the guards. His legs had cramped up and he’d been stiff for days and the Fanta-ban his father had put him on had been no less unsympathetic. Then the thought of his father made his throat lump up so he focused on thinking about how annoying the head angel had been and how stupid his hair looked.

When Ryoma finally fell asleep he was still murmuring about that "stupid Monkey king", cramped up on his side like a shrimp. 


	2. In which Ryoma finds out he's stuck (and the author shamelessly pretends Japanese is demon language).

"You broke the portal-between-dimensions," Atobe said.

"Yes," Ryoma said before he spooned more gruel into his mouth. It was plain but filling, and he was hungry.

"Why did you do it?"

"I didn't do it on purpose." More sounds of eating.

Atobe looked coolly at Ryoma and the demon looked coolly back. They both looked so cool they could have been discussing the weather over tea and biscuits.

"How did you break the portal?" Atobe asked finally as he twirled a strand of his hair idly.

Ryoma swallowed and said, "The Fanta in my bag spilled when I crossed over, I think." He had heard the explosions of the cans bursting, although why they had he didn't know.

"The…Fanta," said Atobe.

"Speaking of which, can I have my bag?"

Atobe ignored him. "And what exactly is Fanta?"

Ryoma looked at him like he was soft in the head, making Atobe grit his teeth and snap, breaking the mood, "Oh, never mind. Whatever it is, it broke the portal, particularly the machinery that framed it and kept it functioning. Now we have to repair the frame, which will take  _weeks_ , and the portal will have to be closed for that entire period." He glared pointedly at Ryoma, eyes accusing  _it's all your fault._

Ryoma raised an eyebrow. "Isn't the portal a rip between our two dimensions? So it can't be closed no matter what."

"No, it's quite a bit more complicated than that," input Oshitari as he slipped out of his pocket of existence beside Atobe. The young lord, having had years to get used to this, didn't so much as blink whereas Ryoma flinched and almost dropped his spoon.

"You! Stop doing that!" Ryoma barked on reflex.

"Show some respect, child. Oshitari is an archangel, not your common cloud-pusher," Atobe said with a sniff. "You will refer to him as Lord Oshitari."

"He sounded just like you right then, Atobe," Oshitari said with a speculative glint in his eyes. Ryoma held back the urge to make the evil eye at him.

Feh, angels and their titles. If they wanted to judge by blood Ryoma probably ranked higher than either of them.

"Go ahead then, lord archangel," Ryoma said sarcastically.

"Just call me Oshitari,  _child_ ," Oshitari said, emphasizing Atobe's nickname of choice for the demon. Ryoma glared but said nothing, choosing to shove another spoonful of gruel into his mouth instead.

"Carry on with it," Atobe ordered, but lacking bite in his words. He was looking thoughtfully over the sullenly eating demon.

Nudging his glasses, Oshitari explained, "The portal-between-dimensions is somewhat inaccurately named so because it is a portal between  _all_ of the dimensions, not just our two. This is because it is not just one rip in time, but several rips layered over one another. Although the most powerful beings could distinguish the separate rips and slip through one or the other, today only probably Demonking Echizen or perhaps one of the Council members would be able to see the rips clearly. The portal frame, the _doorway_ , was created around the rips to allow the user to choose which dimension to visit without actually having to  _see_  the rips themselves."

Ryoma felt a cold stone sink into his gut as he registered the meaning of the angel's words.

"You mean to say," he said, "that the portal that broke wasn't just the way to Heaven, but also the way to Earth?"

Oshitari pursed his lips at being interrupted but answered, "Yes."

"Why can't someone just jump in? There's only a couple choices in destination," Ryoma argued.

"Unfortunately, the rips are overlaid one another so when trying to pass through the portal an individual would be end up being pulled in different directions and for lack of a better term…ripped apart," Oshitari said, and Atobe chuckled at his not-so-obvious attempt to be "punny".

"Thus, the only ones that would be able to pass through the portal in the state it is now would be our Council Lords or the Demonking," Atobe deduced.

"Yes, exactly," Oshitari confirmed with a nod.

Ryoma paled. "That means that…there's no other way to Earth?"

"Yes."

"Until the portal is fixed?"

"Yes."

"And how long will that take?"

Oshitari whipped out a roll of parchment and said, "It looks like...an indeterminate amount of time."

Ryoma gaped while Atobe mused, "It is the first time the portal has been broken so thoroughly since it's making."

"Indeed," said Oshitari.

" _Kuso!_ " The two angels jumped as the demon cursed loudly and started pacing around the tiny cell, cursing all the while.

" _Baka, baka, baka oyaji!_ " He seemed to have forgotten about the two angels completely in his temper tantrum. Oshitari was starting to see some resemblance between the demon and his younger sister when she was being grounded for the umpteenth time.

"What a violent language. Yet somehow eloquent and pleasing to the ear," Atobe said as enthused as a witness to an orchestra making sweet sweet music. At that, Oshitari cast a critical eye on his friend to check his sanity.

"Just sounds violent to me, but it looks like one thing's for certain," Oshitari determined, barely catching Atobe's attention as he watched, fascinated by the energetic display their demonguest was making.

"Hmm?"

"One thing's for certain," Oshitari repeated strongly, "It's that Demonguest Ryoma is trying to get to Earth."

Atobe tore his eyes away from the cell. "Yes, it does seem unlikely that he is a demon terrorist bent on destroying Heaven singlehandedly. Thus, Code Neon Green is to be deactivated."

"Terrorist?" Oshitari said in confusion (he wasn't up to date with fashionable Earth jargon) and then realized, "Code  _Neon Green_?"

Atobe gave him a dull look, "Yuushi, please study up on our emergency code colors. It might prove to be useful someday."

"Yes, but  _neon green?_  …Atobe, where are you going?"

With a hair flip, the young lord said, "To other business. My noble self has more important things to do than waste time in a dungeon all day. Don't forget to relocate our demonguest to a more suitable room." Then he was gone, leaving behind only a trace of his lavender perfume, (" _It's cologne!" Oshitari's mental mini-Atobe barked)_.

Bemused at how quickly Atobe had hurried off, Oshitari stared after him, murmuring to himself, "Neon green…what kind of idiotic…might be Atobe the Senior...."

Behind Oshitari, Ryoma had collapsed on his straw bed with his arm over his eyes, exhausted from his rant and by the thought of his being trapped in Heaven for an indeterminate amount of time.

" _Yadda_ …," the boy moaned.


	3. In which Atobe gets scolded like a child and Ryoma learns angels are a bit wonky.

“Atobe!” A scruffy angel with short brown hair and a scowl barged into the office, slapping the doors open so strongly that they banged against the walls and left indentations from where the vintage door knobs collided with the wood.

Atobe sighed, raised long fingers to rub the bridge of his nose and said with utmost exhaustion, “What now, Shishido?”

The angel crossed his arms in a huff. “What, you too good to talk to me, _your lordship_?” Shishido said.

“No, but you are the fifth interruption I have had in the last hour alone. Why the entire Tower has to demand my attention now, as valuable as it is…,” Atobe lamented.

Shishido rolled his eyes. “Never mind that,” he snapped. “What’s this I hear about you throwing a demon kid into the dungeons?”

“What about it?” Atobe said, making Shishido gape.

“You actually did it? I can’t believe you! Atobe, the dungeons are no place for a kid, demon or not!”

Atobe made a dismissive motion with his hand. “He was fed and watered. The boy didn’t come out with a scratch,” Atobe assured, although his haughty tone itself wasn’t very assuring. Shishido started to redden, indignant on the demon boy’s behalf.

“There are rats down there though. It’s cold, dark and dank. The psychological impact alone is too much for a person. I managed to get through just fine, but a _kid_ —” Shishido broke off, fists clenched white, the scars on his wrists prominent. He was obviously revisiting his own personal memories of the dungeons, and Atobe’s eyes went dark as he remembered how he had failed Shishido then.

“It’s different,” Atobe said, steepling his fingers to cover the downward twist of his mouth his memories had given him, “You were in the dungeons for almost two weeks, strapped to the wall with limited food, water and sunlight. I put the boy in that cell in the front with the window, and ensured he had plenty of sustenance. He was only there three days.”

Shishido’s lips thinned, but he seemed to calm down some. He took a deep breath and asked, “Where is he now then?”

“On the fourth floor,” Atobe said, and he was about to tell Shishido to leave now that his business was done but stopped midway looking affronted. “Did you come in the middle of your post-practice shower?” 

Shishido blushed, touching his hand to his hair. “After I played with Choutarou. How could you tell?” he said with an embarrassed frown.

Atobe sniffed. “Please. Your hair is damp but it’s not been washed, there’s a spot of soap on your collarbone and you reek of sweat,” the young lord rattled off. Then he began lecturing Shishido on how he should maintain a proper image befitting a Hyotei upper-ranked angel.

“You may be a newly charged archangel, Shishido, but even you, from the realm of commoners—”

“Hey.”

“—cannot go running around in such slapdash—”

“ _Hey._ ”

“—might as well be part of some low-born, cloud-pushing—”

“Atobe!”

Atobe stopped mid-rant. “Do you repent?” he asked silkily.

Shishido groaned. “Yes, yes, I repent, just stop your nagging, _please._ ”

“Good, then get out of my office,” Atobe said briskly, “ I have work to do and too little time to play around with the likes of you.”

Annoyed but relieved to be let off the hook as Atobe was obsessed with their image and his lectures on proper image care could go on for _hours_ Shishido rushed out the office.

Atobe raised his head, “Wait.” Shishido stopped, one foot out the door and turned his head warily.

“Who was gossiping about the demon boy while you were in the shower eavesdropping?” Atobe had his fingers touching his brow in his Insight pose, also known as his personal I'M WATCHING YOU expression.

Shishido seemed torn between saying, “I was not eavesdropping!” and “How in Heaven did you know that?” but settled with just answering so he could hurry out of range of Atobe’s frightening Insight.

“Jiroh,” he said. “He must be sleeping on the fourth floor lately, because he was trying to get candy off Gakuto to give to _‘the demon boy that escaped the dungeons’_ ,” he relayed with finger quotes.

Atobe twirled his pen through his fingers thoughtfully as Shishido left his office feeling his head for his missing cap.

“Of course, he would meet Jiroh,” Atobe mused. He wondered if he would have to do any damage control. “No, at worst, Jiroh will fall asleep on the boy,” Atobe determined, smirking at the thought.

 

 

There were three things Ryoma learned about Akutagawa Jiroh the first day meeting him.

First, he was easily amused.

“They’re soooooo dark,” Jiroh said as he wondered over Ryoma’s inky wings. He stroked them carefully like he was afraid they would stain his hands black. The demon sat there being petted for quite a while until the random angel regained himself long enough to introduce himself. He would have pulled away if it hadn’t felt so good.

 

Second, he was easily excited.

Jiroh was still bouncing after Ryoma gave a brief explanation on Hell’s physical differences to Heaven (i.e. coral sky to blue, lilac clouds to white, generally warm wind to cool…).

“So, do you guys have any of the extinct creatures, like dragons or sea serpents?”

“Dragons, yes. Sea serpents, no,” Ryoma said shortly. Jiroh’s eyes grew wide.

“Coooool!!” he exploded, bouncing. ( _“Why the bouncing?”_ Ryoma thought in vain).

 

Third, he was easily drowsed.

The demon couldn’t believe it, Jiroh had fallen asleep on him again! Ryoma pushed his snoring face away from his ear, but the angel was too heavy to completely push off. Jirou mumbled something unintelligible and drooled a bit on Ryoma’s shirt. Lovely.

Ryoma sulked, (though anyone else would call it pouting).

Was this what all angels were like? Snobby like that Atobe angel or downright wonky like this one? What kind of world had he landed in, Ryoma lamented. 


	4. In which Hyotei is full of criminals and Wakashi is the last to know, as usual.

As usual on an early morning, the residents of the Tower were treated to the sight of an angel with some impressive dark circles and a stack of books emerging from the library like a mole poking its head out the ground for its first taste of sunlight.

Wakashi Hiyoshi didn't often care about what other angels thought of him. As one of the youngest archangels of Hyotei Tower (also known as the Violet Tower), one of the most prestigious angel Towers in Heaven, he didn't have to care. His reputation spoke for him. However, he still wasn't anywhere near the level of importance as the young Lord Atobe Keigo, son of the Council member who ruled Hyotei. He would overtake Atobe though. He already had a secret plan: work ethic.

Through hard work and perseverance, he wholly believed he could outmatch Atobe in influence. His parents had taught him that a good work ethic could get him farther than anything else, and since he didn't have the photographic memory Atobe had (at least not until he successfully bullied Ohtori into granting him the gift when Shishido wasn't lurking around), he had to trust that studying would get him through. And if that meant his boyish good looks were enhanced by panda eyes, then so be it. He would suffer the longing looks that all the cougars gave him with the dignity befitting an archangel.

As we can see, Wakashi really isn't so different from Atobe.

Thus, on an early morning, he was trudging out of the Tower's main library as usual, books under his arm and circles under his eyes. He planned on taking a good five hour nap before eating a late breakfast (or early lunch) and hitting the books again. Power wouldn't come by itself, he consoled himself. Power had to be earned, he told himself.

Rewards would come from all the suffering from Atobe's snide comments on "getting more sleep to take care of those dreadful dark circles", Mukahi's boundless hug attacks, Oshitari's "advice" on proper diet and exercise to take care of his sleeping problems, Shishido's teasing, Kabaji's judgmental stares and Jiroh constantly pulling him away for buddy naptime where he just fell asleep by himself on top of Hiyoshi, Heaven's most reluctant pillow. Even Ohtori, his childhood friend and his closest ally, had been making not-so-subtle attempts to pull him away from his domain of books with excuses of needing a food tester or someone to help him shop for Shishido's birthday present. The fact that Hiyoshi had been insanely proud of his find of a sturdy and stylish new pair of wing cuffs for Shishido was beside the point.

The point was that it seemed that everyone was trying to get in his way on his mission to achieve ultimate power (or at least enough to overtake Atobe), and Hiyoshi wasn't standing for it anymore.

So when, on his way to his five-hour nap to charge up for more research, he spotted Mukahi pressed up with his ear against a door, clearly conducting suspicious behavior out in daylight when obviously such things should be done covertly at night away from prying eyes, Hiyoshi sighed and turned the other way.

Or, at least he tried to.

He had only the yelp of "Wakashi!" and the tell-tale flap of wings before he was bowled over in another Gakuto Hug Attack™. He blamed it on his exhaustion when he closed his eyes and leaned back briefly.

"Have you been studying in the library all night  _again_?" Gakuto scolded as he put a cold hand on Hiyoshi's forehead. He sounded remarkably like Hiyoshi's mother, so much that Hiyoshi snapped open his eyes and stepped away to confirm that yes, it was just his senior nagging at him.

"I'm fine. I'm just heading to my room for some sleep," Hiyoshi said, waving away Gakuto's hands. Gakuto looked skeptical, but he didn't press the issue.

"What are you doing?" Hiyoshi said, indicating the door the other angel had been hovering around. Gakuto brightened.

"I'm spying on Jiroh and the demon!" he exclaimed, making Hiyoshi raise his eyebrows.

Those were two things he'd never thought he would hear in the same sentence. "Senior Akutagawa…and a demon?" Hiyoshi said incredulously, and maybe just a tad jealously. It wasn't every day that one met a demon, and Senior Jiroh had met one before him when he spent literally three-fourths of the day sleeping. Life was cruel, Hiyoshi determined.

"Yeah, didn't you hear? Apparently it arrived four days ago and Atobe threw it into the dungeons. It just got out yesterday morning, although Jiroh's hung out with it already," Gakuto relayed, "Figures, he'd be the first one of us to meet a demon, after Atobe of course."

"Why hasn't anyone told me?" Hiyoshi grumbled, figuring he was the last to know, as usual.

Gakuto narrowed his eyes and gave him a quick slap upside the head.

"Ow!" Hiyoshi said and rubbed at his head. He stared dumbly, not used to being physically attacked. It had taken him a long time to get used to  _hugs_  after all. His family wasn't nearly as touchy as the Hyotei bunch.

"If you haven't noticed, this is the first time I've seen you in a  _week._  You've taken this whole avoiding everyone thing too far. I've had to rely on Yuushi and Ohtori to give me readings on how you were doing just to know you weren't drowning in your own puke or something!"

At Hiyoshi's confused look at the last, Gakuto just muttered something about "hot Earth musicians" which did not explain _anything at all_.

"Anyways, you only have yourself to blame for missing out on the gossip of the week," Gakuto snapped.

"Understood," Hiyoshi mumbled and at Gakuto's  _look_ , he added a swift, "Sorry." Five feet tall and even he made Hiyoshi feel like a child—what was Hyotei doing to him, Hiyoshi mentally agonized.

Of course then he found himself giving Gakuto a lift in the room they patronized to spy in so that the shorter angel could try to listen in on the two through a vent connecting their rooms.

"I think I can hear them talking! Man, the demon sounds young," Gakuto said, and Hiyoshi was interested despite himself.

"What are you doing?" Ohtori asked from the doorway they had forgotten to close, shocking the two of them so much that they both jumped and lost their balance. The pale-haired angel was left blinking at their collapsed and twitching forms on the floor.

"Um," said Ohtori.

"That hurt," Gakuto whined; he was sporting a rash of red underneath his chin from his impromptu meeting with the ground.

Without prompting, Ohtori said, "May I?" and neatly wiped away the wound with a short wave of his hand above the area. Oshitari could heal wounds just as well, but he never did it as naturally as Ohtori did, which made sense since Ohtori's specialty was in healing. Hiyoshi was willing to bet that Ohtori could heal in his sleep, seeing as Shishido often looked much better after a night of sleep after one of their matches. Shishido and Ohtori had been roommates for a year now.

When they filled Ohtori in, who had also heard about the demon accidentally through Shishido, Hiyoshi was sure that he would put an end to their operation, but Ohtori got a thoughtful look and only said, "I did wonder what it would be like to meet a demon," which Hiyoshi chalked up to the criminalizing tendency of Hyotei. It got him, after all; there was no way Ohtori would have escaped it.

Then, Ohtori's eyes narrowed on a second look at Hiyoshi and Hiyoshi sighed, knowing what was coming.

"Did you stay up all night  _again_?"


	5. In which the spying spies that spied get caught and tennis isn't just for humans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I brought tennis in.

With Ohtori's help, it was a lot easier to spy on Jiroh and the demon. He narrowed his eyes at the vent connecting the rooms, muttered a few words and…twiddled his fingers at it.

"Magic looks so much cooler in those young wizard films," Wakashi muttered.

"For the last time, I'm not Harry Potter," Ohtori snipped without looking back.

Slowly, the voices Gakuto heard before became progressively louder until they could hear the two as clearly as if they were standing in the same room as them. The three angels exchanged looks.

The conversation they were eavesdropping on went something like this:

_"…And these are lollipop rings."_

_"Un, I've had these before. Ours are shaped differently though."_

_"Did you guys steal the idea from Earth too?"_

_"Yeah, those humans have tasty stuff."_

And….

_"This isn't Fanta!"_

_"Mou, I looked everywhere for what you described and all I could find was this Ponta stuff we copied from Earth."_

_There was a sound of grumbling from the other and then the_ pop _and_ fiiizz _of a can of soda being opened._

_Then an exclamation of surprise. "It's good!"_

_"Jiroh, score!"_

"It's sort of typical that the first demon that we get to meet in person arrives and Jiroh bonds with him over _junk food_ ," Gakuto whispered.

"The demon sounds young," Ohtori whispered back, "I think he might be even younger than us." His brow furrowed as he realized something. "Wait, do demons age the same as us?"

"Maybe. Demonking Echizen is looking pretty good considering how long it's been since the Fall." Gakuto didn't seem to realize he had admitted aloud to ogling the demonking before.

Dutifully, Ohtori said, "It's more politically correct to call it the Split."

"Why are you whispering," Wakashi said aloud, making the two of them jump and scramble to slap a hand over his mouth and (in Gakuto's case) over his eyes.

"What the hell, why are you blocking my _eyes_?" Wakashi growled, which came out more like _"Mmaduhmahmmmfgahhh?"_

"Wakashi, you dumb kid!" Gakuto hissed in his ear. Wakashi noted vaguely that he must have been on the tips of his toes to keep his hands firmly over Wakashi's eyes because even as hunched over as he was under the combined weight of their attacks he was still taller than his senior. "It's a two-way street—Ohtori explained this earlier!"

Before Wakashi could ask what the _hell_ a "street" was he heard the dull _slam_ of a door banging into a wall.

"Oh dear," Ohtori said right before the door to their room crashed open. Gakuto and Ohtori let go of their respective holds on Wakashi in shock.

"Who the hell are you?" The three angels gaped at the short dark-winged figure glaring at them from the doorway.

Gakuto was the first to snap out of his surprise and narrowed his eyes right back. "Who wants to know?" He crossed his arms defiantly, bolstered by the fact that the demon was indeed shorter than him.

"I asked first," the demon drawled. His incredibly black wings twitched once behind him before settling on his back and his posture relaxed as if he had decided upon seeing them that they were no threat. All three of them noticed however that he was still crouched on the balls of his feet, ready to fly if need be.

"We just wanted to meet you," Ohtori spoke up, drawing the demon's vivid golden brown eyes to him, "We've never met a demon in person before and when we heard from Senior Jiroh that he knew you…."

"Did someone say my name?" Jiroh's head popped up in the doorway behind the demon. "Oh, it's you guys! Hey, hey, Gakuto, do you have any more of those gummy things? We already finished a bag."

"The whole thing? That was my whole stash for the week!"

To their surprise, the demon boy was the one who answered, "Blame him," as he pointed a thumb at Jiroh. "He was getting sleepy so he decided to scarf down the entire bag of gummies to stay awake." The demon looked as longsuffering as they usually did with the angel's antics.

Jiroh at least had the decency to look abashed. "I slept most of the time I saw you last. I don't want to waste any more of my time with you. It's not like I meet a demon every day and who knows when you have to leave?" he pouted. For an angel that prioritized sleep over sweets and sweets over everything else it was odd that he was so motivated to stay awake, but motivated he was. The glint in Jiroh's eye was reminiscent of the uncharacteristically serious look he got when he was playing a match against Atobe.

"Maybe we should keep the demon around as further motivation for him to stay awake," Wakashi muttered, the other two angels nodding in agreement.

As for the demon himself, he had an uncertain look at Jiroh's announcement. When he noticed the angels watching him for his reaction he scoffed _che_ and looked away, but his pale cheeks were tinted pink. It was a sight that made the whole room inwardly go _"Awww."_

"Well," Ohtori stepped forward and offered his hand to the demon, "Anyone who has made such an impression on Senior Jiroh is alright in my book. My name is Ohtori Choutarou."

Not to be outdone, Gakuto stepped forward too. "Mukahi Gakuto," he offered.

"Wakashi Hiyoshi," Wakashi said not a second later, feeling annoyed at being last. Wakashi had to succeed over the others and introduce himself first next time…they met a demon face-to-face again.

The demon boy scanned their faces before introducing himself stoically as "Ryoma Horio".

It was an odd name, but the demon said he was more comfortable with Ryoma so the angels figured that demons weren't so different from angels if they preferred to be respectfully addressed by their last names with strangers.

"Ryoma then, huh?" Gakuto said, testing the name on his tongue. Now that they had a name to match to the face, what did they do now? Jiroh and Ryoma had been in the middle of a junk food fest, which the three angels had interrupted.

Gakuto didn't want to pester the demon with all the questions he had bubbling in his head because he didn't want to make himself look like some clueless angel groupie like the humans that followed around those hot suicidal rock stars. This was his chance to look cool in front of a demon, so what to do? Gakuto quickly ran a mental scan over all the occasions he usually looked cool. He found his answer more easily than he expected when his eyes lit on Ohtori, who looked like he had just come from a practice with Shishido.

"Hey," he said, calling the room's attention. His dark eyes were focused on just Ryoma as he said with a grin, "Do you know how to play ball?"

The redhead was taken off guard when the demon grinned back at him in open challenge.

"Do you?"

.

Atobe heard the familiar rhythm of _thwak_ 's coming from outside and twisted around in his desk chair to see who was playing. It couldn't have been Shishido or Ohtori as they had just finished a practice match with each other, nor could it be Yuushi who was working. Gakuto often loathed to play with anyone without his partner so he was out, Wakashi would have been sleeping off a restless night, Jiroh napping and Atobe knew for a fact that Kabaji was not due back until the next day.

Atobe's eyes widened when he saw the players and stood up to get closer to the window. The whole back wall of Atobe's office behind his desk offered a gorgeous view of the Hyotei region through a ceiling to floor stretched window. It was wiped to crystal clarity every day so Atobe literally had the best view of the surroundings of the tower.

Meaning he saw perfectly when, many stories below, the demon boy Ryoma served a shot that bounced once and then twisted straight into Gakuto's surprised face.


	6. In which Heaven and Hell have something in common because the author has decided tennis rules the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, the names aren't that creative. So sue me.

As was the usual fare in Hyotei, Mukahi was squabbling over something ridiculous when Atobe reached the ground level. The difference this time was that his opponent was shorter than him for once and sporting a pair of dramatically darker wings.

Oshitari offered the diva an amused look when he arrived. “Your shenanigans are attracting too much attention. The entire Tower will be out here soon enough,” Atobe snapped, irritated at having to rush out like a commoner. He surreptitiously smoothed down his hair in case he had knocked a strand out of place.

Oshitari put his hands up in defense. “I got here only a moment before you did,” Oshitari said honestly, but smiling in a way Atobe found highly suspicious.

Sniffing, Atobe surveyed the scene. Somehow the entire team had managed to congregate outside. Shishido must have been distracted on the way down to change because he was still in his practice outfit and frowning with the usual annoyance when faced with Gakuto’s antics. Beside him Ohtori was biting his lip in worry and both Jiroh and Wakashi were more awake and excited than Atobe had seen them all month. They were grouped loosely around Mukahi and the demon boy as if unsure if they should break the argument occurring.

Mukahi’s face was as red as his hair so his black eye wasn’t immediately noticeable. When his skin resumed its usual paleness though, it would become a remarkably neat and round purple bruise. Normally in such a state the acrobat would have been a whining pile of melodramatics and already working up revenge plans, but at the moment he was glaring down the demon like he could beat him into submission with the force of his eyes alone. To the demon’s credit, he seemed mostly unimpressed and was returning his stare evenly.

Atobe would have expected their conflict to be over Mukahi’s black eye, but it was infinitely more juvenile than that.

“It’s E-ball,” the demon was saying with surprising doggedness.

“It’s not though! It’s called powammy!” Mukahi shook his fist like he thought it was actually a threatening gesture. If anything, the demon looked even more unimpressed.

“It’s E-ball,” he repeated, giving observers the sense he could keep this mantra up all day.

“It’s powammy! It’s _called_ powammy! Yuushi, tell him he’s wrong!”

Oshitari raised a navy eyebrow. “I believe the sport won’t be diminished in integrity if it has more than one label,” he input helpfully.

“But the proper label is powammy!” Gakuto whined.

“That’s a ridiculous name. I refuse to call it that,” the demon declared. “It’s called E-ball.”

“So I’m not the only one who thought it was a stupid name,” came the murmur from Wakashi.

“I don’t care what your kind calls it, but here it’s called powammy! You should be respectful and call it by its proper name,” Mukahi warned, hands on his hips.

The demon considered that for all of three seconds before...“It’s E-ball though.”

“Argh!” Mukahi grabbed at his hair, looking cracked, or more cracked than usual. Atobe decided to cut in before Mukahi was reduced to a frothing rage and embarrassed Hyotei even more than usual. Little did he know, a week later Atobe would remember this moment and wish he had taken precautionary measures because this incident would be _nothing_ in comparison for what was to come. 

“As riveting as this is,” Atobe said haughtily, “I’d like to know who decided it was a good idea to bring Hyotei’s demonguest outside. Someone, explain. _Now_.” He used Lordling Voice #4, the one that eased a bit on the disdain while heavily emphasizing the impending holy punishment.

Except for Oshitari, no one had realized his presence until then and Atobe reveled in the element of surprise as they all jumped.

Jiroh was the first to react, and for lack of a better term, _bounced_ at Atobe. “Atobe, Atobe, did you see? Did you? Ryoma made the ball fly right up into Gakuto’s face!” He swung his arm in the motion of an uppercut to demonstrate, narrowly missing Wakashi's nose in his excitement who jumped back hissing like a cat.

Gakuto said icily, “Thanks for the reminder, Jiroh.” His evil look was pointed at the demon though, who smirked back like the brat he was.

“Heh.”

“Why you—!”

Noticing Atobe’s forming _the great me is ready to smite something_ expression, Ohtori said hastily, “Sorry, Senior Atobe. We just wanted to play ball together when we found out we had the sport in common with Demonguest Ryoma.” Shishido who stood beside him, pow stick leaning against his shoulder, grimaced.

“Don’t apologize, Choutarou. There’s no reason to.” To Atobe, Shishido said,“What’s the big deal? They just wanted to play some ball. The shorty’s actually not bad.”

“Shorty?” The demon looked disgruntled.

“The problem is that in case you haven’t noticed, the demonguest is highly conspicuous. We can’t have a demon traipsing around Heaven, it’ll cause a ruckus!” His eyes narrowed dangerously at Shishido before moving to include them all.

“Do you know what will happen when the other territories find out that we have a demon strolling around unguarded?” Then Atobe paused as a thought occurred to him. He swiveled to the demon boy and sure enough the shadows he had appointed him were absent. “Where are your guards? Their orders were not to leave your side at any time.”

The demon boy shrugged nonchalantly. “One of them’s on a date and the other’s getting breakfast. Apparently the kitchen’s serving cinnamon rolls today. I told him I wouldn’t leave the room.” Atobe did not look amused.

“And yet, here you are.”

“Yeah.” The demonguest looked like the only one unperturbed by the evident lying.

“I guess we shouldn’t be surprised by his deviousness, considering he’s a demon,” Oshitari remarked, a sly smile appearing beneath his flashing glasses.

“Like you could talk about being devious,” either Shishido or Wakashi muttered. The difference was negligible because both had the same thought.

“Never mind then, I will just have to find and appoint a less…gullible pair,” Atobe said in distaste as he considered how troublesome the task would be. “In the meantime, we will return you to your room.” He waved a hand imperiously at the lot of them to get going.

“Aww, already?” said Gakuto, temper tantrum apparently done when faced with the prospect of their play time ending. “Don’t butt in, Atobe! We were just getting started!”

“Yeah!” added Jirou.

“Yeah,” said Wakashi, more quietly.

At their cacophony of dismay, Atobe glanced over at the rest of them. Save for Oshitari, the angels were all holding balls and pow sticks. The demon was twirling his own pow stick in his hand, seemingly content to test the grip and weight of it while the angels bickered. He appeared to be comfortable with it so it must have been true that they played ball in Hell as well.

Atobe momentarily considered the merit of an extra member to practice with, a potentially capable member at that. “Fine,” Atobe conceded with a huff. “If we must though, we might as well find a proper court to proceed with.”

This was how, minutes later, Atobe was settling into a defensive pose across the net from a certain demon boy.

“Show me what you have, child.” The cutting look was to be expected, but then the boy’s lips curled up in a way Atobe could read the excitement and challenge waiting there. Curiously, Atobe’s heart sped up.

“Mada mada da ne."

And like Jirou had said, the ball came _flying_. 


	7. In which Atobe has a new admirer/fanboy/stalker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure Ryoma's strong but he's still at the stage where he hasn't played against enough people to have had the growth he needs to beat Atobe. I find it generous to have let him win as many games as he does here. If anyone has complaints please message me and I'll get back to you sometime in the next century.

The boy collapsed on the court, his small chest rocking with the force of each gasp that ripped out of his lungs. Atobe would have been flattered if he wasn't breathing unsteadily as well. The last game had had to be torn out of the demon's hands as he had fought for it with all the viciousness of a cornered animal. If he had played like that for the entire game Atobe wasn't sure he would have fared as well as he did. As it was….

"6-3, Atobe's game," Oshitari said from where he had been observing. If his voice was unruffled, his appearance wasn't. The magic user didn't seem to have noticed that he was hovering a few centimeters off the ground.

It was actually Jiroh in the umpire's seat as he had leapt into it before anyone else could when the game started. Jiroh had entirely forgotten his umpire duties and was now leaning so far forward that he was in danger of falling out of the seat.

"That was…." Wakashi clutched at the fence separating them from the court. If he was the type to feel embarrassed over losing his cool in public he wouldn't have been alone because the others were in a similar state beside him. Shishido's wings were actually trembling.

"What was that? None of us have ever been able to get so many games off him!"

"Except for Yuushi," breathed Gakuto, his thin fingers grappling at the fence. "But at most Yuushi's gotten away with two games from Atobe."

Choutarou said nothing, clutching the collar of his shirt where his cross pendant was hidden underneath. Below even that, his heart was racing. He could almost hear the beat echoed across the room. Excitement was thrumming through each and every one of them. It was enough energy to drive them through the rest of their matches for the year.

Who was Ryoma Horio? The question was one they all shared, even Atobe.

The archangel himself voiced it when they met at the net to shake hands. "Who are you?" Atobe said as he firmly kept Ryoma's hand in his grip. He was no brute, so the demon could have tugged free if he tried. To his pleasant surprise, the demon boy let himself be pulled forward so they were nearly breathing the same air.

Atobe was a whole head taller than the other, but the bold eyes that stared up at him negated what superiority the height granted him. The demon had just lost a match but there was nothing humble or submissive in the way he looked at Atobe, and he was tempted to do something to force that impudent gaze to submit, something…outrageous.

"I'm just Ryoma," was the reply and the cocky smile turned innocently inquisitive. "What was your name again?"

For one of the few times in his life, Atobe was left speechless.

.

.

Atobe didn't look up from his paperwork, already knowing who had entered his office. The darkness he saw at the edge of his periphery only solidified what he was aware of.

"No," Atobe said succinctly before the other could open his mouth.

Demonguest Ryoma bristled. "I didn't even ask yet!"

"Jiroh is napping in the courtyard. Go pester him for a game." _Instead of the great me_ , was the unspoken sentiment, but one clearly recognized.

Blatantly ignoring him, the demon boy dropped into the chair in front of his desk. "Play me."

"I refuse," replied Atobe and serenely ignored the boy's glower in favor of his work.

It was starting to become a habit. The first couple times he had stomped off after Atobe's rejection but now he stayed to harass Atobe at least once a day. It was perplexing but Atobe couldn't deny that his ego was stroked. He started to set aside a break for himself around the time the boy was bound to show up.

Minutes ticked by in silence until Atobe inevitably gave in, sighing. "Where did you leave your guards this time?" He said as he looked up.

The demon boy shrugged. "Somewhere around the eighth floor. They were showing me the library."

Atobe couldn't help the amusement that quirked his mouth. "The pathetic duo is probably combing over that entire library to find you. Hyotei's library is the largest in the region."

The boy's answering smirk showed Atobe he didn't as sound as bothered as he was trying to.

"Is it?"

"Yes. I should hope that you actually read something and educated yourself."

"I've read most of the things in there already. The castle library is bigger."

Atobe's eyes sharpened at that and he twirled the pen in his hand as he considered how to go about couching the question he wanted to ask. "Preposterous. A commoner like you read that much? I don't believe it."

The boy proved him wrong with a genuinely affronted look. "Believe it. My old man used to make me do book reports on them." Atobe was disturbed to find that he found the resulting almost-pout endearing.

He cleared his throat. "You must have spent a great deal of time in the castle library then. Considering how troublesome the task would have been divided into a multitude of visits, I presume you lived in the castle itself?" Despite his careful nonchalance, the boy froze.

It was a split second before the boy said with his usual indifference, "My whole family did. We were servants."

"Really," Atobe said mildly. Inwardly he was filing away what he had just seen. He was positive that the demon had lied just now and skillfully, but which part exactly was the lie he didn't know yet.

Deliberately, Atobe sniffed. "I thought I warned you not to go around the tower with your wings uncovered."

"...The magic was making me itchy," came the petulant reply and unless Atobe's sight was deceiving him, the demon's shoulders lowered a notch with the change in subject.

Interesting, Atobe thought, and it was an effort to rein in his satisfaction. He had the best eyes in all of Hyotei. Nothing could trick his famed insight, he crowed inwardly.

Of course then the demon insolently broke Atobe's train of thought by taking that moment to inform him that his smile was creepy.

Atobe's eye twitched. "Your guards have exactly five more minutes to show up and take you away before I decide to appoint you a new pair."

"How mean...play me."

"No!"

.

.

Ryoma was telling the new pair of guards that Atobe ate kittens for breakfast and that he wore too much perfume when Shishido came around the corner.

Shishido stopped when he saw who was standing beside the demon. "New guards already? Didn't you just get a new pair earlier?"

"Monkey King sacked them," Ryoma said and tilted his head towards the new angelguards hovering over his shoulder, "This is Akaya and Shinji."

The one with the curly black hair started sputtering. "Don't call me so informally!" He didn't seem too upset though, if his fascinated glances at Ryoma's wings were anything to go by.

Shishido knew the feeling well since he was still getting used to the idea that he had a living and breathing demon in his proximity. Ryoma was Ryoma, but demons had been known before only from a distance. If they hadn't had the few glimpses of the Demonking they did, demons might have been mythical beings.

Akaya wrenched his eyes away from Ryoma's wings and made a frankly awful attempt to look unassuming when Ryoma turned his head to give Akaya a dubious look. "Then what do you want me to call you?" he asked with true confusion.

"Kirihara, of course," Kirihara said, blushing faintly.

If anything Ryoma looked even more confused. He turned to his other guard next. "And you?"

The angelguard shrugged. "I am fine with Shinji. It does not bother me if you want to call me by my first name. Considering how long I must stand by your side and guard you we might as well get as comfortable as possible. It will be troublesome either way." He had a monotonous way of speaking that was soothing to the ear in the way white noise or a lecturer's drone might be.

"Heeehh," Ryoma said as his eyes lit up with comprehension. A tiny smirk adorned his lips as he thanked Shinji for letting him use his _first_ name.

Shishido had the feeling he had missed something important.


End file.
